


Drunkstronomy

by SweatersAndScarves (SlaveToMyKeyboard)



Series: After Earth [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Astronomy, Cutesy, Dubiously Correct Information, Fluff, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gill!Kri, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Slight Quadrant Confusion, drunk talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaveToMyKeyboard/pseuds/SweatersAndScarves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey Kanny, lemme tell ya ‘bout <em>stars</em>.”</p><p>Cronus is at least partially well-versed in knowledge of the cosmos, and decides to explain this to Kankri whilst he's so drunk on Lalonde-brand booze that he can't even walk in a straight line.</p><p>Some cute, fluffy nonsense inspired by an art stream with Krabkri and Miatheicetype on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunkstronomy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Krabkri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krabkri/gifts).



“Heya, Kanny,” Cronus drawls, throwing a lazy arm over your shoulders.

You’re convinced that had you not been there, he would have tripped over his own feet, but as it is you are just tall enough to be a convenient crutch for the intoxicated sea-dweller.

“Hello Cronus,” you reply, even though you’ve already been walking with him for the past ten minutes, listening to his slurred ramblings about all manner of things as you guide him back to his hive.

It’s not a particularly special night, for neither Trolls nor Humans, however it is the night that Roxy Lalonde began giving away a new line of her apparently perfected home-brewed alcohol. You weren’t interested of course – you’ve never liked the taste of alcohol, and the idea of embarrassing yourself whilst under the influence overrides any sort of exclusion you feel as the only one not drinking – but most of the others were happy to drink their cares away with shots and glasses of whatever was on offer. Including Karkat, which you did not approve of _at all_. His little giggling fit whilst he was trying to shout at you was rather amusing though. You feel sorry for whichever one of his quadrants will be taking him home tonight.

“Hey, chief, look,” Cronus says, pointing at the sky above.

“Yes, it’s the sky,” you say, perhaps a little more sarcastically than you had intended.

“No, no, the stars, Kan.” He pulls you closer, as if trying to match up your line of sight with his.

You tilt your head away a little to try and dim the stench of alcohol, “What about the stars?”

“They’re jus’ so bright n’ stuff,” he says, the words sprinkled with awe as a smile quirks his lips.

You look at where he’s pointing, letting your eyes glaze over the unfamiliar pattern of lights that pinprick the darkness. “Yes, they’re lovely.”

“Not as beautiful ‘s you babe.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, then he frowns, fins drooping in a way that should not be as appealing as it is. “Shit, y’ didn’t say beau’ful did ya?”

You shake your head, forcing a smile onto your – warm and probably blushing – face. “No, I don’t believe I did.” Probably better not to address his language now, he has no idea what he’s saying after all.

“Vwell the point still stands,” he mumbles, finally letting you walk under your own power instead of half-dragging you by the shoulders.

His arm stays on you though, which you’re okay with. Perhaps a little less than usual because of his current state, but still okay. And he seems content to gloss over the fact that you didn’t respond to his compliment, which is better than okay because you’re still not used to him saying things like that. You really should be, considering that you're his Matesprit, but most things you do together feel more like acts of Moirailegence. Plus you’re only in your fourteenth week of adjusting to the idea of having quadrants at all, so it’ll probably take some time like Porrim said.

You continue walking for a while, watching where you’re both walking – yet still ending up zig-zagging over the path – whilst Cronus stares up at the stars. Occasionally he loses his balance and you once again have to prop him up, but sea-dwellers have pretty good reflexes, so he often catches himself before you can take his full weight. You feel an odd tightness just below your thoracic cavity whenever his muscles flex against your body, a sensation that you’ve experienced many times before but always catches you off guard. In a good way though. You think.

Then when you reach his hive he speaks again.

“Hey doll, I got a telezoom, uh zele- telescope, in my hiwve, vwanna take a look?”

“Are you referring to the human equivalent of a skyseer?” You ask, taking his keys from him so that you can unlock the door.

“Yeah, yeah one a them.”

“Oh how wonderful, I have always wanted to try stargazing with an actual skyseer instead of magnioculars, it’s a little sad that I never got the chance with the Beforus sky but I’m sure this one will be just as impressive, and as the saying goes, you cannot miss something you never had.” You close the door and follow him up the stairs of his hive.

“It’s in here,” he says, grinning back at you as he leads you into a small room that you previously assumed was just a cupboard.

It is only the size of perhaps two generously dimensioned cupboards, and has nothing in it except an old music stand, something covered in a tarp, and some boxes, but one of the walls is taken up by a glass panelled door that leads out onto a balcony. You never even noticed that the back of the Ampora hive had a balcony. Cronus pulls the blanket off of what you now realise is the skyseer, and clumsily drags it out onto the balcony. Honestly, you’re surprised that he doesn’t break something, probably through sheer luck rather than his own coordination. He bends over to look through it – you politely avert your gaze from his *ahem* posterior – then after a moment he stands back and eagerly beckons you over.

“Don’t touch it, jus’ look through,” he says, guiding you into place by your shoulders.

You close one eye and look through the optical finder, smiling at the slightly off-centre cluster of stars that Cronus wanted to show you. They’re all slightly different colours and sizes, nestled amongst a cloud of pale dust that gets dimmer as it radiates outwards.

“It’s cool right?” He kneels down next to you.

“Yes, it’s fascinating,” you reply, “would you perhaps mind if I explored a little myself? There is something that I have been wanting to examine lately.”

“A course, chief.”

You move away from the skyseer to get your bearings, but before you can begin searching, Cronus grabs you by the waist and pulls you down into his lap. You let out an embarrassing squeak of surprise, then a gasp when you feel his cold skin through your leggings, his fingers settled just below your gills where they lie concealed under the fabric.

“C-Cronus.” You squirm a little, gently pushing his hands away from your shared anatomy that you have yet to tell him about. “How am I supposed to look from down here?” You say, trying to distract him, “I can’t even reach the skyseer to move it, let alone see through it.”

“Y’ just doooooo… This,” he says, holding the o sound whilst he twists a screw on each of the skyseer’s legs, bringing it down to your level. “There, nowv you can see all them shiny stars _and_ be my lapvwarmer.”

Oh. You didn’t know that was a thing that could happen. You clear your throat and shuffle forwards, sitting up as straight as you can to resume your stargazing, “Thank you.”

“Don’ mention it, babe.” He rests his cheek on your shoulder, cold hands now wrapped gently around your arms where your sweater protects you from the temperature difference.

It takes a little time and a lot of patience, but eventually you find what you were looking for; a tiny swirl of silver with a bright orb at the centre.

“Cronus, look,” you say with a grin, leaning to the side so that he can use the optical finder.

“Hey vwould ya look’t that,” His fins flutter, lips curling into a smile, “tha’s a uh, a galazy.”

“Galaxy you mean?”

“Yeah, tha’s the one.” He sits back against the wall and pulls you tight to his chest. “Hey, Kanny, lemme tell ya ‘bout _stars_.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at his proposition, which you expect is going to contain so many drunken slurs and inaccuracies that would trigger actual Cosmostronomers to turn in their corpse boxes.

“I’m listening.”

“Okay so vwe gots all a them stars up there, an’ some of ‘em are big, those’re the red ones, but some are small, those’re the blue ones, vwhich ain’t really accurate ‘cause you’re small an’ Zahhak is like fuckin’ huge, but tha’s not really comprabable.”

You think that last word was supposed to be comparable, but aside from that and his likening of star’s colours to Troll blood colours, he’s doing surprisingly well with his little lesson on stars.

“But sometimes they ‘splode, vwhich isn’t good,” he continues, sounding so thoughtful in spite of the nonsense coming out of his mouth, “it looks pretty though, an’ galazies are pretty too, an’ all them nebulas like the one I showved ya. That last one is vwhere baby stars are made, like a big, vweird mother grub made a' stardust, but like, there's more than one, 'cause hawvin one for the vwhole univwerse vwould be stupid.”

Good God, he actually knows about the cosmos, you think he would even sound educated if he wasn’t slurring and speaking like a wiggler.

“How do you know all of this, Cronus? I wasn’t aware that you had an interest in Cosmostrology or anything even remotely connected to it.”

“Hm? Oh I’m a drunkstronomer, ‘s a vwery priss– presseg– pres-tig-ious Beforan class.” He says, tripping over the word ‘prestigious’ until he sounds it out.

You can’t help chuckling at this, leaning your head against him as you both gaze up at the sky.

“None a’ those’re as pretty as you though.” He presses a gentle kiss into your hair. “Trust me ,Kan, my expertise are discernin’ in these matters.”

You can feel the blood boiling in your cheeks, but for once you don’t dismiss him or argue against it.

“Thank you,” you say, ignoring the lurch in your stomach as you roll over to hug him back, “although I’m not sure if ‘pretty’ would be the right word in this situation.”

“Beautiful then, or handsome, vwhatewver you vwant, ‘cause you’re all of ‘em an’ ain’t nobody allowved to say othervwise.”

Your face is on _fire_. Thank the Gods he can’t see you, and if he could he probably wouldn’t remember it once the haze of alcohol wears off. You press your cheek against his cool chest and sigh, feeling safe and comfortable against your pan’s instincts to not be this close to anyone, let alone a sea-dweller. Yes, this is going to take some getting used to, but at least you can relax as your Matesprit gently strokes your back, listening to him talk about bits and pieces of cosmic knowledge that may or may not be true. You smile and close your eyes, drifting asleep to stories of ‘supernowvas’ and ‘sky pictures’, blissfully unaware that you will spend tomorrow night dealing with your Matesprit and Dancestor’s awful hangovers.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly little something with my favourite dweebs, set far ahead in my After Earth AU.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this! Kudos and Comments are appreciated <3
> 
> Visit my tumblr [here](https://slavetomykeyboard.tumblr.com/) for stuff about this or any of my other AUs or just to chat!


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